


for you, you hungry thing

by seinmit



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5 Times, Belly Kink, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, Infinity Saga Never Happened, M/M, Stuffing, Wakanda (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinmit/pseuds/seinmit
Summary: Five meals with Bucky and Loki.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Loki
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37
Collections: We Die Like Fen 4: We Lived to Die Afen, We die afen and afen





	for you, you hungry thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snickfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/gifts).



> Title from the very on the nose poem [The Love Cook by Ron Padgett.](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49221/the-love-cook)
> 
> I narrowly resisted calling it "I am always hungry & wanting to have sex," so, you're welcome. (From [this poem](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/54620/peanut-butter) which may be the source of why there's a lot of peanuts in the fic.)

Bucky was pretty sure it started as mockery. He wasn't so far gone that he couldn't remember the snide half-smiles of the rich looking at the poor, the way they'd catch sight of you and sneer like the reminder of the lowly was itself offensive. Loki wasn't as bad as some of his old customers had been, back in the fancy Brooklyn restaurant that he'd bussed for a month before losing the job unceremoniously when he came in with a black eye. It was extremely clear that most of Loki's disdain was for his unwashed humanity, not any remnants of poverty from a century ago, leaving cultural markers that Loki wouldn't even know to read. That made it easier--Bucky had been ashamed of being poor, once, but nowadays he couldn't bring himself to be ashamed of being human. 

Even the Wakandans got the upturned lip and poorly concealed irritation. That made it both more outrageous and impossible to take seriously--Bucky could almost pity Loki for his terrible taste. 

Especially if it prevented him from really enjoying a meal like this one. 

The table was groaning with food, and the company was good. Bucky's Xhosa wasn't up to following the details of each exchange that got people laughing, but it was sufficient to keep him smiling as he tucked into the meal. He could feel his lips slick with with oil and the ginger in a stew he was eating traveled up his sinuses, made them tingle. 

Bucky was glad of the looseness of his Wakandan garb, the way he could feel his body expanding with the volume of food and reaching no resistance. It was too good to stop--he felt warm from the core of him out, spices and meat and novel tastes that were still redolent with care.

Old instincts were the only thing that kept him from really gorging himself--there was more than enough to eat, and whenever anything ran out someone stood up to refill it. It was a casual celebration and while Wakanda wasn't wasteful, it was a show of pride to overfeed their interstellar guests. It was irrational, he knew that--but when he noticed that there were only a handful of the rings of fried peanut butter left, he hesitated. He found himself slowing, though he could eat plenty more. 

He hardly had time to sit back in his chair, resting his hand on his stomach in a show of satiation, before another bowl was nudged in front of him. It was a pumpkin stew, a cheerful bright orange, flecked with chiles and under a glistening layer of the red palm oil. His mouth watered just looking at it, before he looked up and met Loki's eyes. 

They maintained eye contact for only a moment before Loki flicked his gaze away--not at anyone else, just away from Bucky. 

"You look like you could use a good meal," Loki said, with the echo of a sneer. There was a dare in it, even though the taunt didn’t actually make much sense. It wasn't enough to get Bucky's back up, but it was more than enough to get him eating. 

"Thanks," Bucky said. "I haven't tried this one. It's all so fancy." 

He liked playing the rube. The corner of Loki's mouth ticked up and Bucky stuffed an extra large chunk of pumpkin in his mouth, licking the flavor off of his fingers with his mouth full. To spite him? Or something. He could feel Loki's gaze on him for the rest of the night.

* * *

At first the Asgardians had just been using Wakanda as a base to negotiate for unused land elsewhere on earth. Their instinct had been to find a New Asgard that was a little more similar to the climate of the old one, maybe one with traces of a time when humans believed in them as gods. Wakandans didn't fit that bill, and if it hadn't been for that pretense, the council might never have agreed to let them stay at all. T'Challa was on a tight leash, even if Bucky's behavior proved that not all outsiders would be as disruptive as the traitor. 

But T'Challa had a point to prove about the virtues of openness, and it turned out that most of the world wasn't all that into the idea of aliens settling down in their midst. Months ticked over and before anyone had realized it, it was nearly a year. 

Bucky didn't follow Wakandan politics all that closely out of self-defense, but when the representative of the Merchant Tribe suggested that they invite the Wakandans to stay permanently, Shuri said that T'Challa did a piss-poor job concealing his smugness. 

"That might just be his face, though," Shuri said. She was resplendent in her traditional finery, even though she complained that the strings of beads were a pain to keep settled properly. Watching her, Bucky was pretty sure both that it was her constant fussing with them that was to blame and that she had nothing really to complain about--the fabric was made for this weather. 

They were all in traditional costume--the Asgardians in architectural outfits of leather and velvet, the Wakandans in their colorful handmade fabrics. The feast was to celebrate cultures coming together, and it had been decided that they must each represent themselves. Bucky had talked Shuri out of recreating his old military uniform; he couldn't negotiate his way out of the tux.

He shifted uneasily in it. It had been a long time since he had even worn anything with a waist, much less a cummerbund. 

"I can hear you complaining and you aren't even talking," Shuri sighed, rolling her eyes. 

She reached out to grab a tray of klouikloui, and pushed it into Bucky's hand. She knew they were his favorite--they reminded him of home. Fried food and peanut butter was a lot closer to New York than most of what he had eaten in the intervening time, and the peppery spicing made it different enough that it didn't feel like aimless nostalgia. 

"Last time I wore a tux I was undercover as someone's bodyguard," Bucky said. "I don't think I had even seen a tuxedo in person before the war--the place that passed for fancy for us weren't near that fancy, and I was only working there." 

She faked a snore and shoved one of the rings into his mouth. He laughed, despite himself, and snapped his teeth at her hand--but he didn't relinquish the snack. He chewed with his mouth open, purposefully obnoxious, and she snickered with disgusted delight. She always brought out the big brother in him. 

"Nobody wants to hear about back in your day, old man," she said. "Either you start having fun, or I'm going to abandon you." 

"That's what leadership looks like," Bucky said, dry. "Nothing works better than threats." 

She raised her eyebrows and popped another klouikloui into his mouth. He had to chew and swallow before he could come up with another way to tease her, and before he managed it, she actually had to leave him--she was a princess, after all. She couldn't help him hold up the wall on the sidelines. 

By the time he swallowed the ring, he was left with a tray in his only hand and no clear way to actually eat any more. Another downside of this more formal affair--everyone was supposed to mingle in the crowd, there was no seating, and Bucky wasn't about to venture out toward the more heavily populated cocktail tables. 

He sighed, frowning down at the tray. Was he supposed to eat them like a goat? He would be willing to do it, too, but he had to at least have some dignity on behalf of the human race. 

"I could get you a feedbag, if you wanted it." 

The voice startled him into laughter with how closely it echoed his thoughts. 

"If we were alone, I would absolutely take you up on that," Bucky said. He looked up, and there was Loki, watching him closely. He was dressed in green and gold leather, tightly fitted against his lean body. His eyes were disconcertingly intense. 

Bucky felt his stomach twist, and it wasn't just hunger. He licked his lips and tasted mostly the chapstick that he had put on hours ago. The chemical cherry wasn't all that appealing. 

Loki reached over--his long, slender fingers carefully plucking a fried ring and holding it to Bucky's lips. Bucky took a quick breath and tasted peanuts on the air. It was entirely unlike the sisterly teasing from Shuri. 

When he leaned in to take a bite, the fried crust crunched beneath his teeth and crumbled. Bucky ate the whole ring, careful not to touch his lips to Loki's fingers. They maintained eye contact, crackling with energy. Before Loki pulled his hand back, he gently brushed a crumb off of Bucky's chin. 

Bucky felt warmth licking underneath his skin and he went still, an almost predatory intensity filling him. This was something, even if he wasn't entirely sure what--a new dance, with old music. 

He hadn't expected it, but it was easy to keep his eyes on Loki. 

But, when he let his mouth open again for another bite, Loki vanished so quickly that Bucky might have assumed he stepped sideways through dimensions if it weren't for the straight line of his back retreating through the crowd. 

Well, then, Bucky thought, but he didn't have any conclusion to follow. Instead, he took the whole tray of snacks back to his apartment and ate them on his own, considering, thinking of the way Loki was looking at him. He felt his pants tighten, but the relief of pulling off the cummerbund did nothing for the pressure.

* * *

Things were peaceful, for a time, and then they weren't. Bucky couldn't even fake surprise, not even to spare Shuri her regret when she brought him an arm and asked him to help. 

She chewed her lip and Bucky could almost hear the joke she wanted to make--that was enough to soften him, send her a lightning quick smile. 

"So I'm to take up arms against a sea of troubles?" 

Shuri rolled her eyes and relaxed. "Poorly executed. Nobody wants a fancy reference with their stupid pun." 

"Shakespeare is mostly that--"

She nudged his shoulder, both to stop his defense of the Western tradition and to shift his posture enough that she could click the arm into place. He felt a muted jolt in time with the almost metallic slurp of its placement. It was weird, but never painful--nonetheless, he had to catch his breath. 

"There's an oncoming alien scout," she said. "Fast, furious, and apparently ravenously hungry."

"What does it eat?" he said.

Her eyes were somber. "Everything." 

He nodded and settled into to listen to the rest of the mission. They were going to try to obliterate it in the atmosphere. There were three forward teams--each with one Asgardian and one Wakanda. He was startled to find out that for this he apparently counted as Wakandan, but he supposed it fit better than the alternative. 

"You're with Loki," she said, an almost apologetic cast to her voice. It made him smile, more sincerely than before. 

"I actually like the guy." He didn't know him all that well, but he did like what he'd seen--or maybe more accurately, he liked the way he felt seen around him. 

She rolled her eyes in response. "Well, he requested you. Don't get too distracted to kill the bad guys." 

Bucky didn't even deign to answer that--focus on the enemy had never been his problem, was even less of one after everything. The thought of having a companion that kept him in his body--even if he wasn't entirely sure where it was going--was nice. A good reminder. It had been a long time since he'd faced any real threat, and he felt apprehension building in his chest. He pushed it down and reminded himself of the way Loki had been looking at him, the tension between them. There was a sweetness to the nerves that filled him with--he'd hold on to that as long as he could. 

Even with those thoughts, he got quiet for the rest of the preparations. He armed himself with weaponry as well as an additional limb; he donned the suit she made for him. Before long, he was in one of the sleek little orbital crafts that Wakanda had been pumping out, a novel mix of their old vibranium-based tech with Asgardian flourishes. 

Before he knew it, he was on his way to space, Loki in the pilot's chair. The darkness of the universe bloomed in front of him, rising up out of the earth in a strange reversal of a sunrise. He gasped, gulping in a breath of air like he'd need it, his eyes filling with an unexpected well of tears. He'd been a lot of places, but he'd never been to space before. It had been something he read about--but the vastness wasn't the sort of thing you could write down. 

Loki sent him a scornful little glance--and that was enough to prick whatever thin restraint Bucky had been keeping on himself. He let himself lean into his naive wonder, because fuck him, he was an earthling and this was as close as he'd gotten to the stars. 

He craned his neck to look around the edge of the viewing window, wanting to see the earth they'd left behind. From this distance, even his enhanced eyes could only see the fluid movement of earth and water--anything that marked out human habitation was lost in the swell of the planet. 

"Don't you have postcards of the Earth from space?" Loki said. "It's been fifty years, you'd think even you'd manage to see one." As he spoke, he pushed a button, and the field of vision widened--the shaded edges flickering away and going clear. They were surrounded by space, the earth beneath them. 

"Golly," Bucky said. "I sure never seen anything like this before." 

Loki rolled his eyes, but he didn't comment again. He watched Bucky, though, as Bucky looked. Bucky couldn't even resent the intensity of his gaze, keeping him reminded of where they were, and who he was. A man could feel remarkably small in the face of everything, but Loki's looking kept him on a human scale. He felt solid. 

He leaned back in the seat, rolling his arm in his shoulder. Loki watched him--Bucky felt his eyes follow the line of his body, felt them settle on his midsection, on his thighs. Loki's outfit today wasn't all that different than what he'd been wearing to the party--same color scheme, same materials--but Bucky had traded a tight suit for an even tighter one. He knew it made him look thick, his muscles barely contained, and when he spread his legs, Loki followed the movement. 

They had a little waiting to do before their target was going to be at the right distance to engage. Loki set the craft into orbit and didn't bother to hide his observation. Bucky wasn't exactly over the vastness of space, but suddenly the breath between them was far more interesting--and wasn't that human all over. 

"Say," he said, keeping a trace of the yokel that he'd been pretending to. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to eat, would you? I wouldn't want to go into battle hungry." 

Loki's shoulders stiffened, like he thought it was some kind of joke, but Bucky kept his gaze steady and open--he wasn't joking. He'd thought a lot about the way Loki had been watching him. Sometimes it felt like every meal he had since had been charged with that gaze--he'd eat and then run his own fingers on over the soft skin of his belly, palpate through the fat and inconveniently hard muscle, look for the give of something warm. More often than not, his hand would drift lower. 

It was easy now to be sincere, and Loki could see it. Bucky watched him lick his lips and then smile, a disarming wryness in his expression. He wasn't sure if that was a trace of a blush on his skin, or if he was seeing what he wanted to see. 

But, one thing was obvious. Loki blinked out of existence and left Bucky startled, alone. Bucky looked around in a silly instinct--but of course he hadn't stood up, he had just left. Before Bucky could even process the immediate flush of shame of being denied so completely, Loki was back. He was holding a pie in his hands--a whole damn pie, laden with clouds of fluffy whipped cream. Clenched in one fist was a plastic packet of silverware--Loki was holding it tight enough that Bucky was a little worried he'd break them. 

Heat rising to his cheeks, Bucky leaned in and gently took the plastic utensils. He hesitated to fake the pie itself--the simple sight of it in Loki's hands was a lot to take in on its own. 

"Where did you find a pie?"

"A bakery," Loki said. It was clear he was trying to keep some of that aristocratic snottiness, but he couldn't manage it--he was a little breathless, like he had ran to Earth and back. 

Bucky still didn't want to take it from him. He took a deep breath, and smelled the sweetness of milk with sugar. Underneath that, peanuts. He carefully unwrapped the utensils and slipped the litter into a pouch on his suit that Shuri had surely meant for something different. It didn't matter. 

He had two hands, now, but he let Loki hold the pie. He leaned in and sunk the spoon into the cream--it was almost weightless, and he had to push deep into it to get to the more viscous texture of the pie itself. The air filled with the smell, more intense than it had been before, and Bucky was fascinated by the voluptuousness of the cream. 

His other hand, the flesh one, moved down to his own stomach unbidden. It was hard, compared to how soft that was. The material of his suit was rough. 

When he took the bite, jiggling on the spoon, he didn't conceal his soft noise of pleasure. He closed his eyes and enjoyed himself--this wasn't a pie to be taken lightly, neither in itself nor in its position as a gift. 

"Another bite," Loki said. "Don't waste it." His voice was commanding, but when Bucky looked up, his cheeks were pink and his mouth was slightly parted. 

For the second bite, Bucky kept his eyes locked into Loki's. He could see the minute change in his expression when Bucky closed his lips around another taste of sweetness. 

Loki leaned in, and Bucky started to grin--but then klaxons went off, and the pie vanished like Loki had stuffed it into a pocket. They won the fight and Bucky kept his head; he wasn't sure if it was because of the traces of sweetened cream on his lips, or despite them.

* * *

When Loki opened the door to his apartment in what had become the Asgardian wing of the palace, he seemed startled to see Bucky. 

"You're going to take me to dinner," Bucky said. He was done playing around. The flirting was fun--an adolescent, fizzy joy--but Bucky was an old man in human terms and they had reached the point where he was done with feeling like he was teetering on a precipice. Shit or get off the pot, and wasn't that an unpleasant saying when you thought about it. 

Of course, Bucky's impatience gave Loki a chance to play the asshole. Luckily they both liked that. He raised an eyebrow, imperious, and Bucky smiled. He felt helplessly warm, both at Loki's ridiculousness and at has own gooey reaction to it. They needed to try this, for real, or Bucky would fully regress to age fourteen. 

Maybe Loki saw something of that on Bucky's face, or maybe he just also was too old for this shit--he didn't fight it. After a little smirk, he stepped outside and shut the door behind him. "I suppose you've already picked the place, too."

"Since you're buying, I figured I'd let you do that."

"How generous of you," Loki said. Bucky started grinning, and didn't stop. 

He smiled around the bissap popsicle that Loki bought him on their short walk. It was a deep, blood-red--from experience he knew it would dye his lips. It was tart, saliva building in Bucky's mouth--he wrapped his lips around it, watched Loki watch him. He had a sense that maybe Loki had originally intended to bring them somewhere else, but when Bucky licked a droplet off of the meat of his thumb, Loki stopped dead and declared that they'd arrived. The timing worked out fine--Bucky likes this place. 

They didn't talk much, but what they said made Bucky hope that there would be a time when they could manage a conversation between all this intent staring. Before the first round of food came, Bucky asked after a project that Loki had been working on with Shuri, and Loki's sharp-tongued descriptions of it had him laughing. 

"Jesus," he said. "You're such a jerk." Maybe he should be turned off, but he clearly wasn't--and Bucky kept laughing at how much Loki clearly didn't give a shit about diplomacy. 

And when the food came, they ate. Loki wasn't dainty, but he was transparently focused more on what Bucky was eating. He ate a croquette and then nudged the rest of the plate over to Bucky, watched him avidly as he finished them. The salt they'd been dusted with crackled between Bucky's teeth and his breathing was picking up--but they kept going. 

Bucky ate. He ate his way through a bowl of greens and a whole grilled chicken, picked glistening slices of mango up between his fingers and licked them clean. He ate until he was really starting to feel it, a congested sort of swelling in his chest, the sort of feeling he once associated with getting paid and stuffing himself because lean times would be inevitably coming back. But this time, when they finished a plate, Loki ordered another. 

The restaurant was unconcerned--even when Bucky wasn't pushing himself, he could eat a ton, and Asgardians weren't lightweights. But it was decadent to keep eating, to push himself satiety and into something else--he loved the excess of it, almost as much as the physical weight in his gut, almost as much as the way Loki was looking at him. 

Bucky neatly deposited the last tail of prawn on the side of his plate and leaned back. When he stretched like that, he could feel the physical weight of his stomach bulging out, moving unnaturally with his muscles. But when he looked down, he was disappointed---the thick cloth of his winter robes prevented him from seeing the swelling. 

When he looked up, he could see Loki narrowing his eyes at Bucky's waist, clearly thinking something similar. 

"That won't do," he said, almost to himself. 

"I think you should walk me home," Bucky said. "I'm not sure I'm up to it on my own."

Loki looked up, his face nearly as fierce as it was in battle. And then raised his hand for the waiter. He ordered a tray of the yam brownies to go with the check.

* * *

They walked in silence back to Bucky's home on the outskirts of Birnin Zana. Bucky felt so weighted down by the quantity of food that he had eaten that he kept his hand cupped around his belly, right through the thick fabric of his clothing. The bulge felt outsized, unwieldy--some base part of him felt like he had to support it for fear of falling over, and he pressed his thumb in hard, rubbing rough fabric against soft skin. 

Loki kept casting him glances, almost seeming annoyed--like he resented the fact that Bucky clearly had such clear evidence of their work that he couldn't see himself. Bucky felt almost like he was floating with fondness, swollen up--even the little moments of pique made him smile. 

He was laden, gravid. Loki was carrying brownies to stuff him more, and the air was just chill enough to give an excuse for the color in his cheeks. His heart was pounding, and the churning in his gut was not just from the excess. 

When they reached his front door, the only noise was the blood rushing through Bucky's ears and the whispers of goats shifting in sleep. Loki opened the door for him, presumptuous, but Bucky wouldn't have cared even without the bliss. He kept his door unlocked for a reason. 

When they got inside, Loki grabbed his wrist and Bucky froze--the touch was warm and heavy, unexpected. They'd been circling each other for ages, now, but this was maybe the first time they'd touched. The shock of it was enough to push Bucky past the resentment of taking his hand off of his own belly. He let himself be dragged to the bed, gently pushed down on it. Bucky was reminded of how strong Loki was in the effortlessness of it--Bucky didn't fight him, but he also didn't have to let himself be moved. He was just put where Loki wanted him. 

After gently putting the brownies next to them, Loki used both hands on Bucky's hips to push him down--Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his thighs in invitation. Loki went to his knees between them, staring at the folds o fabric at Bucky's middle. Bucky leaned back, supporting himself on his hand, and Loki swiftly undressed him. He got Bucky out of the top layer of robes with ease that Bucky wasn't sure he could manage at the moment. The fabric slipped away, and Bucky shivered at the touch of cold air. His eyes closed, reflexive--there was something giddy about anticipation and he didn't want to lose it yet. 

But then he felt a soft press of lips to the base of his stomach, a cheek between the soft swelling of his belly and the beginning of his groin, and his eyes snapped open with the reality of that--there was a bulge, visible over his abs and even on his thick frame, he could feel it against Loki's face. His cock thickened, his belly churned--he felt almost lightheaded. It was ridiculous, how much this was turning him on. 

"Fuck," he said, helplessly. "Just--what the fuck." 

When Loki looked up from his position at Bucky's knees, his face was red--he was sweating, just enough that a lock of his hair was plastered on his temple. It was as unkempt as Bucky had ever seen him. 

"I think you can eat more," Loki said. His voice didn't betray anything of what Bucky had on his face. "Do you want more?" 

Bucky's mouth felt dry--he licked his lips once, twice. He remembered the sour of the hibiscus, the first thing he'd eaten that night, and felt the twinge of his salivary glands rushing to comply. 

Loki didn't wait any longer for him to answer. He reached for the brownies and took one so quickly that he accidentally got two, the second one falling into pieces in the haste. Bucky ducked his head down before it even got to his mouth and swallowed it--it was sweet, delicious. The chocolate was tinged with a deep purple, and it tasted like something old and new all at once. This time, he made no effort to avoid licking the last bits off of it off of Loki's fingertips. On them, he tasted salt, a hint of spice from the fritters they'd been eating, and it was enough to have him drop his jaw, wordlessly ask for more. 

And Loki gave it to him, scooping up the crumbled parts and letting Bucky eat them off his hand, his other hand pressing into Bucky's belly enough that that it was uncomfortable--Bucky's skin was stretched tight across the swell of food, but Loki made it tighter still, bleaching where he touched to white and leaving red marks behind him. 

Bucky's cock was fully hard now, as red and swollen as stomach, nudging at it, asking for attention. Bucky almost wanted to bat it down--it almost felt like a distraction. 

When Loki fed him another bite, he groaned--half-arousal and half-discomfort. He wasn't sure he'd ever eaten to this level of fullness. It was amazing how the stretch of it felt like he was letting Loki himself in, like he was consuming the heat in his eyes as well as the brownie. Bucky ate the rest of the pan like that, his cock leaking sticky trails down his skin. Loki paid it no attention, focused entirely on his belly, on the way it churned underneath his fingertips. By the end of the food, Bucky's hips were twitching sluggishly and he felt tension all the way up his spine, panting hard. It was like getting fucked, and just the thought of that made him moan--it was hard to imagine being even fuller, being stuffed even more to the breaking. He wondered how much more he could take, but he was far too close to ask for it. 

Next time, he thought, and that was enough to send a shock down his spine. 

He let himself fall back on the bed and Loki followed him, eyes fascinated and intent on Bucky's face. His hand shifted from pressing on the bulge of Bucky's stomach to cupping the whole thing, holding it between them. Loki was fully clothed, but hard enough that Bucky could feel the press of it against his thigh. 

"Please," he gasped, not sure what he was asking for, and Loki pressed the last few crumbs into his mouth with his thumb, leaving it there--Bucky sucked, grateful for it, and he could feel Loki's hips jerk in response. He dug his teeth into the meat of Loki's thumb and smiled around it, not letting it go. Loki fucked against him, his body eager and uncontrolled. Bucky made to reach for his own cock, but Loki batted it away, greedy in his own way as Bucky was. When he took his hand away from Bucky's belly, he shifted so that his dick was rocking up against it, looming over Bucky. His hand curled around Bucky's dick--it wasn't more than two or three strokes before Bucky came, hard enough that he curled up into himself, the cramping pain of his belly making it sweeter. 

Loki's thrusts grew arhythmic, uncontrolled, and Bucky sucked his thumb--making promises for next time, more things he could eat for Loki, more things he could take--and when Loki came, he grunted, collapsing on top of him. 

The pressure of him on Bucky's overfull body was enough to make him jerk, but when Bucky made to move off, Bucky curled his arm around Loki's hips. He stayed where he was, but Bucky could feel the tension start to move up his back. 

"So," Bucky said, still breathless, like the food had pushed all the air out of his lungs. "Is it too soon to think about breakfast?" 

Loki's laugh was unexpected and sharp, but Bucky could still only taste sweetness.

**Author's Note:**

> The food mentioned here is a mishmash. I included Nigerian fusion (yam brownies), a drink that is found throughout East Africa, a Beninese street snack, and West African palm oil. I figure Wakanda has a fairly cosmopolitan food scene!


End file.
